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GEORGE ORWELL & ALDOUS HUXLEY
Englishman Eric Blair (aka: George Orwell) was
born in India in 1903, where
his father was employed in
the Opium Department of the Indian Civil Service (the
Opium Department being
a whole other can of worms).
As a young man Blair entered the Eaton
preparatory boarding school in England where his French
teacher was none other than Aldous Huxley.
Huxley became friends and
shared a common love of literature.
Orwell and Huxley read Henry Ford’s re-prints
of the Protocols of the Learned Elders of
Zion and Ford's articles
that were printed in his
Dearborn Independent newspaper and formulated two
separate, albeit similar, novels hat are both
considered classics. Those being "1984" by George Orwell
and "Brave New World" by Aldous Huxley.
Both novels describe a bleak futuristic world that would
exist if the Protocols of Zion were successfully
executed to fruition.
For those who have not read either book, read "1984" first.
If you don’t want to read
all of "1984", then at least read
the “document” by the book’s character Emmanuel
Goldstein titled, "The Theory and Practice of Oligarchical
It’s located in the middle of the book
SCROLL DOWN FURTHER ON THIS PAGE).
You will recognize what has come, or is coming, to be our
reality. Such as Europa
is today’s European Union, Oceania is
the countries that subscribe to NAFTA; Eastasia is
as the Trans-Pacific Partnership (TPP), which
are China, Japan and Indonesia, etc..
"1984" describes state
sponsored torture, 24/7 television
brainwashing media machines , perpetual
war and war
hysteria, war not for territorial gains, omnipresent security
cameras, concentration of wealth, representatives appointing
other representatives, rampant pornography, gun control
leading to total gun
confiscation, well-spaced terror
events, and so on.
Blair and Huxley weren’t genius predictors of the future,
they simply read the Protocols of Zion and made some very
“Within the next generation I believe that the world’s
leaders will discover
that infant conditioning and narco-
hypnosis are more efficient, as instruments of
government, than clubs
and prisons, and that the lust for
power can be just as completely satisfied by suggesting
loving their servitude as by flogging them
and kicking them into obedience.” ...Aldous Huxley
BTW: My paperback copy of Orwell’s "1984"
afterword by German social psychologist, psychoanalyst,
son of Orthodox Jewish parents and member
in good standing of the FRANKFURT SCHOOL, Erich Fromm.
The FRANKFURT SCHOOL can be examined at this website...
the navigation bars or net search: http://www.chuckmaultsby.net/id109.html).
Fromm will have you believe that "1984" is all about the
danger of a communist takeover of the planet. And if you
consider that most commies
were, and are Jews, then he is
correct. But he never once alludes to the Jewish hand in
the world domination
Fromm was included in
Orwell’s masterpiece for the
purpose of distraction. I have no doubt that Orwell
himself would not have
approved of Fromm’s inclusion
as some sort of an expert on his novel. Fromm’s
afterword was added
to the New American Library of
World Literature version of "1984" in 1961 (the height of the Cold
"1984" was first published on June 8th, 1949. Orwell died
on January 21st, 1950 and did not
know what an impact
his novel would have on humanity.
"1984" was required reading in many American public
high schools in the 1960s, but is no longer required reading
because it has
become a glimpse of today's reality
and our progeny’s future.
Aldous Huxley replaced the words God,
and the Lord, with Henry Ford in his
novel "Brave New World." The story
is basically based on people’s lives who are directly or
indirectly involved with the activities of the Central
London Hatchery and Conditioning Center (where
human beings are artificially conceived,
incubated and indoctrinated into their roles in society).
The "Brave New World" story takes place
in the Seventh
Century A.F. (after Ford), the novel opening in the year
632 A.F. (2540 A.D. in the Gregorian
people make the sign of the “T” (for Model-T) instead of
the sign of the cross.
narrates the activities in the lives of central
characters such as Bernard Marx and Lenina Crowne,
other characters sprinkled throughout the novel with
names such as Reuben Rabinovitch, Polly Trotsky,
Rothschild and Sarojina Engels.
have the actual original Russian Jewish
Communists and the Rothschilds Jewish Banksters represented
by characters named Bernard Marx, Lenina Crowne, Polly Trotsky,
and Sarojini Engels all worshipping the deity named Ford.
Other characters include Benito
Hoover (incorporating Italian
leader Benito Mussolini and President Herbert Hoover),
Mustapha Mond (incorporating
Ataturk, the founder of Turkey after WWI, and Sir Alfred
Mond, the English industrialist and founder
Imperial Chemical Industries conglomerate), and Darwin
Bonaparte (incorporating naturalist Charles
Napoleon I). Oh, how clever of Huxley...eh?
The novel's title, BRAVE NEW WORLD, is derived from Miranda's
speech in William Shakespeare's The Tempest, Act V, Scene I:
"O wonder! How
many godly creatures are there here! How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world, That has such people in't."
Aldous Huxley moved to L.A. and
became a pioneer LSD guru in the
1950s. He wrote a book titled "The Doors of Perception"
that was about his LSD adventures. The 1960s L.A. rock
band, The Doors, took their band name from Huxley’s
died of laryngeal cancer on
November 22nd, 1963 in Los Angeles. On that
day he made
a written request to his wife that she inject him with
massive doses of LSD. She did so at 11:45 am
at 3 pm. Huxley died at 5:20 pm. His death was
overshadowed by the assassination of President
that happened on the same day near the time of Huxley’s
first LSD injection.
Click on this text to see Henry Ford's Book and Articles...
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Click on this text to hear Aldous Huxley Narrate "Brave New World"...
Click on this text to watch an Aldous Huxley television interview with Mike Wallace -1958...
THE THEORY AND PRACTICE OF
Winston began reading:
Ignorance is Strength
Throughout recorded time, and probably since the end of the Neolithic Age, there have been three kinds of people
in the world, the High, the Middle, and the Low. They have been subdivided in many ways, they have borne countless different
names, and their relative numbers, as well as their attitude towards one another, have varied from age to age: but the essential
structure of society has never altered. Even after enormous upheavals and seemingly irrevocable changes, the same pattern
has always reasserted itself, just as a gyroscope will always return to equilibrium, however far it is pushed one way or
The aims of these groups are entirely irreconcilable...
reading, chiefly in order to appreciate the fact that he was reading, in comfort and safety. He was alone: no telescreen,
no ear at the keyhole, no nervous impulse to glance over his shoulder or cover the page with his hand. The sweet summer air
played against his cheek. From somewhere far away there floated the faint shouts of children: in the room itself there was
no sound except the insect voice of the clock. He settled deeper into the arm-chair and put his feet up on the fender. It
was bliss, it was eternity. Suddenly, as one sometimes does with a book of which one knows that one will ultimately read
and re-read every word, he opened it at a different place and found himself at Chapter III. He went on reading:
War is Peace
The splitting up of the world
into three great super-states was an event which could be and indeed was foreseen before the middle of the twentieth century.
With the absorption of Europe by Russia and of the British Empire by the United States, two of the three existing powers,
Eurasia and Oceania, were already effectively in being. The third, Eastasia, only emerged as a distinct unit after another
decade of confused fighting. The frontiers between the three super-states are in some places arbitrary, and in others they
fluctuate according to the fortunes of war, but in general they follow geographical lines. Eurasia comprises the whole of
the northern part of the European and Asiatic land-mass, from Portugal to the Bering Strait. Oceania comprises the Americas,
the Atlantic islands including the British Isles, Australasia, and the southern portion of Africa. Eastasia, smaller than
the others and with a less definite western frontier, comprises China and the countries to the south of it, the Japanese
islands and a large but fluctuating portion of Manchuria, Mongolia, and Tibet.
In one combination or another, these three
super-states are permanently at war, and have been so for the past twenty-five years. War, however, is no longer the desperate,
annihilating struggle that it was in the early decades of the twentieth century. It is a warfare of limited aims between
combatants who are unable to destroy one another, have no material cause for fighting and are not divided by any genuine
ideological difference. This is not to say that either the conduct of war, or the prevailing attitude towards it, has become
less bloodthirsty or more chivalrous. On the contrary, war hysteria is continuous and universal in all countries, and such
acts as raping, looting, the slaughter of children, the reduction of whole populations to slavery, and reprisals against
prisoners which extend even to boiling and burying alive, are looked upon as normal, and, when they are committed by one's
own side and not by the enemy, meritorious. But in a physical sense war involves very small numbers of people, mostly highly-trained
specialists, and causes comparatively few casualties. The fighting, when there is any, takes place on the vague frontiers
whose whereabouts the average man can only guess at, or round the Floating Fortresses which guard strategic spots on the
sea lanes. In the centres of civilization war means no more than a continuous shortage of consumption goods, and the occasional
crash of a rocket bomb which may cause a few scores of deaths. War has in fact changed its character. More exactly, the reasons
for which war is waged have changed in their order of importance. Motives which were already present to some small extent
in the great wars of the early twentieth century have now become dominant and are consciously recognized and acted upon.
understand the nature of the present war -- for in spite of the regrouping which occurs every few years, it is always the
same war -- one must realize in the first place that it is impossible for it to be decisive. None of the three super-states
could be definitively conquered even by the other two in combination. They are too evenly matched, and their natural defences
are too formidable. Eurasia is protected by its vast land spaces. Oceania by the width of the Atlantic and the Pacific,
Eastasia by the fecundity and industriousness of its inhabitants. Secondly, there is no longer, in a material sense, anything
to fight about. With the establishment of self-contained economies, in which production and consumption are geared to one
another, the scramble for markets which was a main cause of previous wars has come to an end, while the competition for
raw materials is no longer a matter of life and death. In any case each of the three super-states is so vast that it can
obtain almost all the materials that it needs within its own boundaries. In so far as the war has a direct economic purpose,
it is a war for labour power. Between the frontiers of the super-states, and not permanently in the possession of any of
them, there lies a rough quadrilateral with its corners at Tangier, Brazzaville, Darwin, and Hong Kong, containing within
it about a fifth of the population of the earth. It is for the possession of these thickly-populated regions, and of the
northern ice-cap, that the three powers are constantly struggling. In practice no one power ever controls the whole of the
disputed area. Portions of it are constantly changing hands, and it is the chance of seizing this or that fragment by a sudden
stroke of treachery that dictates the endless changes of alignment.
All of the disputed territories contain valuable minerals, and
some of them yield important vegetable products such as rubber which in colder climates it is necessary to synthesize by
comparatively expensive methods. But above all they contain a bottomless reserve of cheap labour. Whichever power controls
equatorial Africa, or the countries of the Middle East, or Southern India, or the Indonesian Archipelago, disposes also
of the bodies of scores or hundreds of millions of ill-paid and hard-working coolies. The inhabitants of these areas, reduced
more or less openly to the status of slaves, pass continually from conqueror to conqueror, and are expended like so much
coal or oil in the race to turn out more armaments, to capture more territory, to control more labour power, to turn out
more armaments, to capture more territory, and so on indefinitely. It should be noted that the fighting never really moves
beyond the edges of the disputed areas. The frontiers of Eurasia flow back and forth between the basin of the Congo and the
northern shore of the Mediterranean; the islands of the Indian Ocean and the Pacific are constantly being captured and recaptured
by Oceania or by Eastasia; in Mongolia the dividing line between Eurasia and Eastasia is never stable; round the Pole all
three powers lay claim to enormous territories which in fact are largely unihabited and unexplored: but the balance of power
always remains roughly even, and the territory which forms the heartland of each super-state always remains inviolate. Moreover,
the labour of the exploited peoples round the Equator is not really necessary to the world's economy. They add nothing to
the wealth of the world, since whatever they produce is used for purposes of war, and the object of waging a war is always
to be in a better position in which to wage another war. By their labour the slave populations allow the tempo of continuous
warfare to be speeded up. But if they did not exist, the structure of world society, and the process by which it maintains
itself, would not be essentially different.
The primary aim of modern warfare (in accordance with the principles of doublethink, this
aim is simultaneously recognized and not recognized by the directing brains of the Inner Party) is to use up the products
of the machine without raising the general standard of living. Ever since the end of the nineteenth century, the problem
of what to do with the surplus of consumption goods has been latent in industrial society. At present, when few human beings
even have enough to eat, this problem is obviously not urgent, and it might not have become so, even if no artificial processes
of destruction had been at work. The world of today is a bare, hungry, dilapidated place compared with the world that existed
before 1914, and still more so if compared with the imaginary future to which the people of that period looked forward. In
the early twentieth century, the vision of a future society unbelievably rich, leisured, orderly, and efficient -- a glittering
antiseptic world of glass and steel and snow-white concrete -- was part of the consciousness of nearly every literate person.
Science and technology were developing at a prodigious speed, and it seemed natural to assume that they would go on developing.
This failed to happen, partly because of the impoverishment caused by a long series of wars and revolutions, partly because
scientific and technical progress depended on the empirical habit of thought, which could not survive in a strictly regimented
society. As a whole the world is more primitive today than it was fifty years ago. Certain backward areas have advanced,
and various devices, always in some way connected with warfare and police espionage, have been developed, but experiment
and invention have largely stopped, and the ravages of the atomic war of the nineteen-fifties have never been fully repaired.
Nevertheless the dangers inherent in the machine are still there. From the moment when the machine first made its
appearance it was clear to all thinking people that the need for human drudgery, and therefore to a great extent for human
inequality, had disappeared. If the machine were used deliberately for that end, hunger, overwork, dirt, illiteracy, and
disease could be eliminated within a few generations. And in fact, without being used for any such purpose, but by a sort
of automatic process -- by producing wealth which it was sometimes impossible not to distribute -- the machine did raise
the living standards of the average human being very greatly over a period of about fifty years at the end of the nineteenth
and the beginning of the twentieth centuries.
But it was also clear that an all-round increase in wealth threatened the
destruction -- indeed, in some sense was the destruction -- of a hierarchical society. In a world in which everyone worked
short hours, had enough to eat, lived in a house with a bathroom and a refrigerator, and possessed a motor-car or even an
aeroplane, the most obvious and perhaps the most important form of inequality would already have disappeared. If it once
became general, wealth would confer no distinction. It was possible, no doubt, to imagine a society in which wealth, in
the sense of personal possessions and luxuries, should be evenly distributed, while power remained in the hands of a small
privileged caste. But in practice such a society could not long remain stable. For if leisure and security were enjoyed by
all alike, the great mass of human beings who are normally stupefied by poverty would become literate and would learn to
think for themselves; and when once they had done this, they would sooner or later realize that the privileged minority
had no function, and they would sweep it away. In the long run, a hierarchical society was only possible on a basis of poverty
and ignorance. To return to the agricultural past, as some thinkers about the beginning of the twentieth century dreamed
of doing, was not a practicable solution. It conflicted with the tendency towards mechanization which had become quasi-instinctive
throughout almost the whole world, and moreover, any country which remained industrially backward was helpless in a military
sense and was bound to be dominated, directly or indirectly, by its more advanced rivals.
Nor was it a satisfactory solution to keep
the masses in poverty by restricting the output of goods. This happened to a great extent during the final phase of capitalism,
roughly between 1920 and 1940. The economy of many countries was allowed to stagnate, land went out of cultivation, capital
equipment was not added to, great blocks of the population were prevented from working and kept half alive by State charity.
But this, too, entailed military weakness, and since the privations it inflicted were obviously unnecessary, it made opposition
inevitable. The problem was how to keep the wheels of industry turning without increasing the real wealth of the world. Goods
must be produced, but they must not be distributed. And in practice the only way of achieving this was by continuous warfare.
essential act of war is destruction, not necessarily of human lives, but of the products of human labour. War is a way of
shattering to pieces, or pouring into the stratosphere, or sinking in the depths of the sea, materials which might otherwise
be used to make the masses too comfortable, and hence, in the long run, too intelligent. Even when weapons of war are not
actually destroyed, their manufacture is still a convenient way of expending labour power without producing anything that
can be consumed. A Floating Fortress, for example, has locked up in it the labour that would build several hundred cargo-ships.
Ultimately it is scrapped as obsolete, never having brought any material benefit to anybody, and with further enormous labours
another Floating Fortress is built. In principle the war effort is always so planned as to eat up any surplus that might
exist after meeting the bare needs of the population. In practice the needs of the population are always underestimated,
with the result that there is a chronic shortage of half the necessities of life; but this is looked on as an advantage.
It is deliberate policy to keep even the favoured groups somewhere near the brink of hardship, because a general state of
scarcity increases the importance of small privileges and thus magnifies the distinction between one group and another.
By the standards of the early twentieth century, even a member of the Inner Party lives an austere, laborious kind of life.
Nevertheless, the few luxuries that he does enjoy his large, well-appointed flat, the better texture of his clothes, the
better quality of his food and drink and tobacco, his two or three servants, his private motor-car or helicopter -- set him
in a different world from a member of the Outer Party, and the members of the Outer Party have a similar advantage in comparison
with the submerged masses whom we call 'the proles'. The social atmosphere is that of a besieged city, where the possession
of a lump of horseflesh makes the difference between wealth and poverty. And at the same time the consciousness of being
at war, and therefore in danger, makes the handing-over of all power to a small caste seem the natural, unavoidable condition
War, it will be seen, accomplishes the necessary destruction, but accomplishes it in a psychologically acceptable
way. In principle it would be quite simple to waste the surplus labour of the world by building temples and pyramids, by
digging holes and filling them up again, or even by producing vast quantities of goods and then setting fire to them. But
this would provide only the economic and not the emotional basis for a hierarchical society. What is concerned here is not
the morale of masses, whose attitude is unimportant so long as they are kept steadily at work, but the morale of the Party
itself. Even the humblest Party member is expected to be competent, industrious, and even intelligent within narrow limits,
but it is also necessary that he should be a credulous and ignorant fanatic whose prevailing moods are fear, hatred, adulation,
and orgiastic triumph. In other words it is necessary that he should have the mentality appropriate to a state of war. It
does not matter whether the war is actually happening, and, since no decisive victory is possible, it does not matter whether
the war is going well or badly. All that is needed is that a state of war should exist. The splitting of the intelligence
which the Party requires of its members, and which is more easily achieved in an atmosphere of war, is now almost universal,
but the higher up the ranks one goes, the more marked it becomes. It is precisely in the Inner Party that war hysteria and
hatred of the enemy are strongest. In his capacity as an administrator, it is often necessary for a member of the Inner Party
to know that this or that item of war news is untruthful, and he may often be aware that the entire war is spurious and
is either not happening or is being waged for purposes quite other than the declared ones: but such knowledge is easily
neutralized by the technique of doublethink. Meanwhile no Inner Party member wavers for an instant in his mystical belief
that the war is real, and that it is bound to end victoriously, with Oceania the undisputed master of the entire world.
All members of the Inner Party believe
in this coming conquest as an article of faith. It is to be achieved either by gradually acquiring more and more territory
and so building up an overwhelming preponderance of power, or by the discovery of some new and unanswerable weapon. The
search for new weapons continues unceasingly, and is one of the very few remaining activities in which the inventive or speculative
type of mind can find any outlet. In Oceania at the present day, Science, in the old sense, has almost ceased to exist.
In Newspeak there is no word for 'Science'. The empirical method of thought, on which all the scientific achievements of
the past were founded, is opposed to the most fundamental principles of Ingsoc. And even technological progress only happens
when its products can in some way be used for the diminution of human liberty. In all the useful arts the world is either
standing still or going backwards. The fields are cultivated with horse-ploughs while books are written by machinery. But
in matters of vital importance -- meaning, in effect, war and police espionage -- the empirical approach is still encouraged,
or at least tolerated. The two aims of the Party are to conquer the whole surface of the earth and to extinguish once and
for all the possibility of independent thought. There are therefore two great problems which the Party is concerned to solve.
One is how to discover, against his will, what another human being is thinking, and the other is how to kill several hundred
million people in a few seconds without giving warning beforehand. In so far as scientific research still continues, this
is its subject matter. The scientist of today is either a mixture of psychologist and inquisitor, studying with real ordinary
minuteness the meaning of facial expressions, gestures, and tones of voice, and testing the truth-producing effects of drugs,
shock therapy, hypnosis, and physical torture; or he is chemist, physicist, or biologist concerned only with such branches
of his special subject as are relevant to the taking of life. In the vast laboratories of the Ministry of Peace, and in
the experimental stations hidden in the Brazilian forests, or in the Australian desert, or on lost islands of the Antarctic,
the teams of experts are indefatigably at work. Some are concerned simply with planning the logistics of future wars; others
devise larger and larger rocket bombs, more and more powerful explosives, and more and more impenetrable armour-plating;
others search for new and deadlier gases, or for soluble poisons capable of being produced in such quantities as to destroy
the vegetation of whole continents, or for breeds of disease germs immunized against all possible antibodies; others strive
to produce a vehicle that shall bore its way under the soil like a submarine under the water, or an aeroplane as independent
of its base as a sailing-ship; others explore even remoter possibilities such as focusing the sun's rays through lenses
suspended thousands of kilometres away in space, or producing artificial earthquakes and tidal waves by tapping the heat
at the earth's centre.
But none of these projects ever comes anywhere near realization, and none of the three super-states
ever gains a significant lead on the others. What is more remarkable is that all three powers already possess, in the atomic
bomb, a weapon far more powerful than any that their present researches are likely to discover. Although the Party, according
to its habit, claims the invention for itself, atomic bombs first appeared as early as the nineteen-forties, and were first
used on a large scale about ten years later. At that time some hundreds of bombs were dropped on industrial centres, chiefly
in European Russia, Western Europe, and North America. The effect was to convince the ruling groups of all countries that
a few more atomic bombs would mean the end of organized society, and hence of their own power. Thereafter, although no formal
agreement was ever made or hinted at, no more bombs were dropped. All three powers merely continue to produce atomic bombs
and store them up against the decisive opportunity which they all believe will come sooner or later. And meanwhile the art
of war has remained almost stationary for thirty or forty years. Helicopters are more used than they were formerly, bombing
planes have been largely superseded by self-propelled projectiles, and the fragile movable battleship has given way to the
almost unsinkable Floating Fortress; but otherwise there has been little development. The tank, the submarine, the torpedo,
the machine gun, even the rifle and the hand grenade are still in use. And in spite of the endless slaughters reported in
the Press and on the telescreens, the desperate battles of earlier wars, in which hundreds of thousands or even millions
of men were often killed in a few weeks, have never been repeated.
None of the three super-states ever attempts any manoeuvre which
involves the risk of serious defeat. When any large operation is undertaken, it is usually a surprise attack against an ally.
The strategy that all three powers are following, or pretend to themselves that they are following, is the same. The plan
is, by a combination of fighting, bargaining, and well-timed strokes of treachery, to acquire a ring of bases completely
encircling one or other of the rival states, and then to sign a pact of friendship with that rival and remain on peaceful
terms for so many years as to lull suspicion to sleep. During this time rockets loaded with atomic bombs can be assembled
at all the strategic spots; finally they will all be fired simultaneously, with effects so devastating as to make retaliation
impossible. It will then be time to sign a pact of friendship with the remaining world-power, in preparation for another
attack. This scheme, it is hardly necessary to say, is a mere daydream, impossible of realization. Moreover, no fighting
ever occurs except in the disputed areas round the Equator and the Pole: no invasion of enemy territory is ever undertaken.
This explains the fact that in some places the frontiers between the superstates are arbitrary. Eurasia, for example, could
easily conquer the British Isles, which are geographically part of Europe, or on the other hand it would be possible for
Oceania to push its frontiers to the Rhine or even to the Vistula. But this would violate the principle, followed on all
sides though never formulated, of cultural integrity. If Oceania were to conquer the areas that used once to be known as
France and Germany, it would be necessary either to exterminate the inhabitants, a task of great physical difficulty, or
to assimilate a population of about a hundred million people, who, so far as technical development goes, are roughly on
the Oceanic level. The problem is the same for all three super-states. It is absolutely necessary to their structure that
there should be no contact with foreigners, except, to a limited extent, with war prisoners and coloured slaves. Even the
official ally of the moment is always regarded with the darkest suspicion. War prisoners apart, the average citizen of Oceania
never sets eyes on a citizen of either Eurasia or Eastasia, and he is forbidden the knowledge of foreign languages. If he
were allowed contact with foreigners he would discover that they are creatures similar to himself and that most of what
he has been told about them is lies. The sealed world in which he lives would be broken, and the fear, hatred, and self-righteousness
on which his morale depends might evaporate. It is therefore realized on all sides that however often Persia, or Egypt,
or Java, or Ceylon may change hands, the main frontiers must never be crossed by anything except bombs.
Under this lies a fact
never mentioned aloud, but tacitly understood and acted upon: namely, that the conditions of life in all three super-states
are very much the same. In Oceania the prevailing philosophy is called Ingsoc, in Eurasia it is called Neo-Bolshevism, and
in Eastasia it is called by a Chinese name usually translated as Death-Worship, but perhaps better rendered as Obliteration
of the Self. The citizen of Oceania is not allowed to know anything of the tenets of the other two philosophies, but he
is taught to execrate them as barbarous outrages upon morality and common sense. Actually the three philosophies are barely
distinguishable, and the social systems which they support are not distinguishable at all. Everywhere there is the same
pyramidal structure, the same worship of semi-divine leader, the same economy existing by and for continuous warfare. It
follows that the three super-states not only cannot conquer one another, but would gain no advantage by doing so. On the
contrary, so long as they remain in conflict they prop one another up, like three sheaves of corn. And, as usual, the ruling
groups of all three powers are simultaneously aware and unaware of what they are doing. Their lives are dedicated to world
conquest, but they also know that it is necessary that the war should continue everlastingly and without victory. Meanwhile
the fact that there is no danger of conquest makes possible the denial of reality which is the special feature of Ingsoc
and its rival systems of thought. Here it is necessary to repeat what has been said earlier, that by becoming continuous
war has fundamentally changed its character.
In past ages, a war, almost by definition, was something that sooner or
later came to an end, usually in unmistakable victory or defeat. In the past, also, war was one of the main instruments by
which human societies were kept in touch with physical reality. All rulers in all ages have tried to impose a false view
of the world upon their followers, but they could not afford to encourage any illusion that tended to impair military efficiency.
So long as defeat meant the loss of independence, or some other result generally held to be undesirable, the precautions
against defeat had to be serious. Physical facts could not be ignored. In philosophy, or religion, or ethics, or politics,
two and two might make five, but when one was designing a gun or an aeroplane they had to make four. Inefficient nations
were always conquered sooner or later, and the struggle for efficiency was inimical to illusions. Moreover, to be efficient
it was necessary to be able to learn from the past, which meant having a fairly accurate idea of what had happened in the
past. Newspapers and history books were, of course, always coloured and biased, but falsification of the kind that is practised
today would have been impossible. War was a sure safeguard of sanity, and so far as the ruling classes were concerned it
was probably the most important of all safeguards. While wars could be won or lost, no ruling class could be completely
But when war becomes literally continuous, it also ceases to be dangerous. When war is continuous there is no such
thing as military necessity. Technical progress can cease and the most palpable facts can be denied or disregarded. As we
have seen, researches that could be called scientific are still carried out for the purposes of war, but they are essentially
a kind of daydreaming, and their failure to show results is not important. Efficiency, even military efficiency, is no longer
needed. Nothing is efficient in Oceania except the Thought Police. Since each of the three super-states is unconquerable,
each is in effect a separate universe within which almost any perversion of thought can be safely practised. Reality only
exerts its pressure through the needs of everyday life -- the need to eat and drink, to get shelter and clothing, to avoid
swallowing poison or stepping out of top-storey windows, and the like. Between life and death, and between physical pleasure
and physical pain, there is still a distinction, but that is all. Cut off from contact with the outer world, and with the
past, the citizen of Oceania is like a man in interstellar space, who has no way of knowing which direction is up and which
is down. The rulers of such a state are absolute, as the Pharaohs or the Caesars could not be. They are obliged to prevent
their followers from starving to death in numbers large enough to be inconvenient, and they are obliged to remain at the
same low level of military technique as their rivals; but once that minimum is achieved, they can twist reality into whatever
shape they choose.
The war, therefore, if we judge it by the standards of previous wars, is merely an imposture. It
is like the battles between certain ruminant animals whose horns are set at such an angle that they are incapable of hurting
one another. But though it is unreal it is not meaningless. It eats up the surplus of consumable goods, and it helps to
preserve the special mental atmosphere that a hierarchical society needs. War, it will be seen, is now a purely internal
affair. In the past, the ruling groups of all countries, although they might recognize their common interest and therefore
limit the destructiveness of war, did fight against one another, and the victor always plundered the vanquished. In our
own day they are not fighting against one another at all. The war is waged by each ruling group against its own subjects,
and the object of the war is not to make or prevent conquests of territory, but to keep the structure of society intact.
The very word 'war', therefore, has become misleading. It would probably be accurate to say that by becoming continuous
war has ceased to exist. The peculiar pressure that it exerted on human beings between the Neolithic Age and the early twentieth
century has disappeared and been replaced by something quite different. The effect would be much the same if the three super-states,
instead of fighting one another, should agree to live in perpetual peace, each inviolate within its own boundaries. For
in that case each would still be a self-contained universe, freed for ever from the sobering influence of external danger.
A peace that was truly permanent would be the same as a permanent war. This -- although the vast majority of Party members
understand it only in a shallower sense -- is the inner meaning of the Party slogan: War is Peace.